


A One-Sided Conversation

by AvecPardon



Series: Parlourverse Canon Side-Stories [2]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Gen, Original Character(s), fivenightsatfreddysfanfiction (blog), parlourverse, reborniverse rewrite, takes place after to watch all night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 22:04:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17353457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvecPardon/pseuds/AvecPardon
Summary: Jeremy has a conversation with the 5th Child, not knowing Mike is overhearing only his half of it.





	A One-Sided Conversation

"If we're going to be working together," Jeremy muttered while sorting out the papers on the desk, "how about telling me how you got to be a ghost?" He didn't have his glasses on for this shift, too many extra spirits wandering around made him nervous to see, and the reminder of what the glass was made of gave him the creeps. But he could still hear the little shadowy figure moving around him, giggling every so often at something.

"Y͞ou ͞h̷a͡v͢e ̨t̴h̸os҉e no͜t̴es͏,͟ ͜ŗi̶g̷h̸t?͘ Abo҉ut th͟e ͝mu҉rd͘e͠r̸s of̵ ͟19̷8͞7 an̡d the Bi̷t̵e̢?̷ ̶I͜'̢m͝ ͡on͡e ̸of̷ ͘the̛ fi̕v̕e̸.

"...oh." He winced a little. "Sorry."

"̢I'̢ve ̕c̛ome tǫ ̷t͠erms͞ ̵w̧i̛th it. ͡My friends͘… w̷ell̨, ͜the͜ o̶thers̕… they'̶r͝e st͠ill ̷ŗeally ͜m͠ad."͝ The voice was coming from the right now, so Jeremy adjusted to keep facing her while still cleaning off the desk. Seriously, more coffee cups? It was a wonder Mike didn't worry about spazzing out on a caffeine overdose.

Then again, that may have been part of the reason why he got irritable with the Fazbands even during the day.

"You've got day shift, Mike, **enough** with the Starbucks," Jeremy sighed, dropping the cups into the waste basket. "Do you remember your name?"

"Ye̛ah, o͟f̨ co͝u̢rs͝e͜.̸ I͡'m̨ ҉just ̛w͞a̷i͜tin͢g ͝to͏ ̛see͏ ͝i̛f͠ y̡ou'll ̧keep youŗ ̶p͘rom̸i̛se͘ b͝e̵f̷ore I tel͟ļ ҉yo͡u҉."̶

"What promise-? Oh, **that** one?" He pulled a hand over his face, "Augh, yeah, don't tell him about 1987 or everyone's doomed? That's the one?"

"̴Y͡o͘ư missed ̸a͏ ҉s̡p̶ot͏."̢

She giggled as Jeremy rubbed a tissue over a sticky coffee stain. "Mike's a messy drinker and the janitor seems to just leave this up to us to clean." He tossed the tissue as well. "What about the others? Do they remember?"

"Yeah, ͡d̛uh͞.͝ T̛h͝at'͡s͟ wh̷y t̡h̨ey͘'̷re mad."͜ The voice moved again and Jeremy readjusted to follow where she was going. Little One seemed to like moving from the vents to the entrance and then back around to the desk, a little patrol all of her own design. "̶W̧e ju̷st ̸d͟on͜'͘t̸ ̨r̨e͠m̷e͜m͜b͢e̛r ̨e̸x̸ac͡tl͠y̵ ͟ **who̷** ̧k̕įl͠l̕e͏d̸ us̡. Th҉at ̷par̛t͠'s ̡k̴i̷n͠d҉a… b̨l͜u̢rry̢.͟ I͘ ̛r̶em͠em͏be̡r̨-"҉

_"Don't say its name!"_ Jeremy cried in alarm, hands over his ears as flickers of panic began rising, "Just **don't**!"

"̶Sor͝r̶y!҉ I̸ ͝fo̵r̨g͠o̕t͘,̴ yo̴u̕ d҉o͘n't̴ li͟k̵e͝ h҉im."̷

He didn't answer, just squeaked out a small whimpering sound and lowered shaky hands to look at hem. "I can't _stand_ it. And yet, I'm not surprised that it's involved in this mess. That's part of the letter my father left." Jeremy held his hands together, willing the trembling to stop, then sighed in relief once they did. "Moving on. The help that you said you'd give me. You're sure there's no screaming involved?"

"̧Only͝ i҉f҉ ̷y͝o̴u͟ ͢w̢a͞nt͢. ͠Y̸ou ̶do̶n'͘t͜ y̕e҉ll͟ ̡m̷uch, s͟o̶ ̸i̢t̴'͞s no͢t͜ ͜r͜ea͡ll͘y şomet͡hi͞ng that ̢com̡es͢ e͜a͜sy͘.͘ B̕ut y̡ou k͞e̵ep ̡s̴a̕yi҉ng ͞t͝h͝o̡s̨e̸ ͝w͘e͜ird͞ wo̕rd͜s̶…"

"Severo admin goto command?" The fan refused to turn off. Jeremy poked at the switch several times, frustrated, before locating the cord and following it back to the outlet. He pulled it free and tossed the plug back towards the desk. Seriously, had no one else thought to do that? Gotta conserve power, especially since the battery of the flashlight drained so quickly.

"Ye͞s…̢ um, ̷J͞er̴emy, ̡that͠ ͢w͠a͝s ̕o҉n ͞bu̴ildi͜ng p̨o̷w͟er."

That's what he gets for still being a 'probie'. Jeremy sheepishly plugged the fan back in. "W-well, my cousin said that Mike yelled about the fan always being on and draining power. S-so I thought…" he stammered out.

"͞T̴hat w̨as͏ **befo͢r̸e** t͟h̶e ͘re͢n҉ova̢tion. ̵He̡y͢,͜ ҉whe͞r҉e ͞wer̢e ̛y͜ou͘ d͘u͞r̴i̧ng tha̛t ti̕me̶?͞ Wh͢en͠ ͜Mikey ͠was ̛o̴n n҉i̷gh͡t̛ ͠sh͡ift?͠" The voice came from near the desk, was she standing by it or sitting on it? Now Jeremy didn't want to mess around too much near it. Could he accidentally knock her off by fiddling with the other papers or poking at the phone?

"At my aunt's place, talking to a 'therapist'," Jeremy muttered bitterly. "Every six months, a new one comes with the same old questions. 'What do you remember?' 'How do you feel about it now?' 'Are you still experiencing blah blah blah?'" He opened his backpack and pulled out the Freddy Mask, setting it on his head. "I keep telling them the same thing and then they leave and someone new comes. I can tell; they're waiting for me to snap like my father did and…."

He didn't say anything else, just shuddered. Not thinking about it, just **not** thinking about it. As long as he didn't try to remember, he'd be okay. Mike said to focus on the job, or else he'd end up stuffed in a suit. ...He had his phone, right? Jeremy searched his backpack again, pulling out a tablet and a journal he used to jot down whatever little 'clues' he found in the pizzeria.

"O͝h, ͠is t̛h̸a̧t̨ w͜her͠e ̷y̴o͟u h͜a͞v͝e̸ the drawi͘ng ͟yo͏u st̕o͡l̢e ҉ǫff ̛t͢he ̨w͏a͜l̷l̶ ͢when҉ ͏yo͢u͘ ͟f̕irst ̵g̨ot̨ h͜ere?" Little One sounded awfully close now. Jeremy jumped, yelping in surprise. "P͟u̕t y͘o͝ưr ͜gl̶asses o̵n͠. Yo͜u lo̢o̸k̡ silly panickin͠g o̸v̨er ̛m͞e wḩen̸ I͘'m t̴h̷e ̢on͏e w̛ho̵'͠s͜ g̸oi̸ņg͜ to h͡e̶lp̷ ̨you.͝"̵

The drawing he stole… yeah, Jeremy remembered taking a child's drawing off the wall of the pizzeria on his first night. Back when it was obvious that Mike had been trying to scare him into quitting. Jeremy made a mental note to ask why later on.

On the wall as they had headed for the office, Jeremy had caught sight of a familiar name scribbled on the corner of one drawing. It was a crude but decently drawn image of Foxy the pirate and a little boy in pirate's clothes, signed 'Mike Schmidt, Age 9'. Jeremy took the drawing down and folded it up, hiding it in a pocket while loudly asking about the other drawings.

"I think I made him mad talking about those," he sighed, scratching at the freckles on his cheek. "But it's no wonder. Those were from before the incidents, so the damage could just be sealing off memories of that time." He tapped the book. "That's why I'm keeping it. It could be good for evidence."

"̸Evid̶ence for wh͠at͝? ҉P͏rovi͘ng̡ your̕ ͏dad'͏s n̨ot͏ a҉ ki͡ll̕e҉r̶'̕s h̷elp̵er̢, o̕r͞ ge͟t͠t͢ing̶ ̸M҉i̷k̨e͜y t͘o͏ ͜rem̕e͝mb͏e͠r͘ the B̶i̷t͜e? ͝I͟ ̵ **ţo͢ld** ̡y̨a, ̢ **d̷o̵n͏'̵t** ̡tel̨l̷ ͢hi͢m!"͠

"And I'm **not**! I promised already!" Jeremy protested, "But it's just sad that this picture's all that's left of the old Mike." He opened the journal, tilting his head at the drawing stored inside. "I wonder what job he would have had if things went differently." ...Oh well. The past couldn't be changed. Now, where was that phone? He put the journal back into his bag and checked the pockets. Nothing. " _Aaagh!_ What am I gonna **do**?! I can't lose that phone!" He was starting to feel that familiar sense of impending doom again as he grabbed at his head. "It's got my aunt's number! It's got Mike's number! It's got 9-1-1 on speed-dial!"

"Why do you need 9-1-1 on speed-dial? It's three numbers, even an idiot can dial that in a couple seconds. I know. **I've** done it." Mike's voice suddenly materializing in the office made Jeremy scream and jump forward, vaulting over the arm of the sofa and crashing into a box of streamers and party hats. "Are you gonna be like this for the **rest** of the month? The doctors _did_ say for you to take time off to heal."

Jeremy climbed back up, turning a shaky smile on the older man standing near the entrance, Mike simply giving him a puzzled look. "Ah, no, no. I'm _fine_! Just… wasn't expecting you there!" He laughed nervously, dusting himself off before walking over. "Besides, aren't you supposed to be heading out already? I mean, we finished last patrol and everyone's in place and you've only got about…" Jeremy checked the office clock quickly. "...five minutes to be out of the building before the Fazbands start up for the night shift."

He blinked when a small blue flip phone was held up in Mike's hand, a stern expression on the man's face. "You dropped this in Kids' Cove. I had to go back and get it since you were too busy doing whatever to hear me when I was calling your name."

"Busy? Doing wha-?" Jeremy paused, face reddening as he raced his thoughts over what he'd been doing for the past half-hour or so. Talking, he'd been talking to the Little One. Mike couldn't see her, couldn't hear her; oh, god, now he probably thought Jeremy was a nutcase talking to thin air.

"-my… Jeremy! PROBIE!"

"I'm **not** _crazy_ , I _swear_!" Jeremy shouted in a panic, coming back to himself at hearing that awful nickname again, "And you said you wouldn't **call** me that after surviving a whole week here! This is my second week!"

Mike just gave him a flat look, sighed, and put a hand on Jeremy's head to stop him from talking further. "Finish this shift, then take the rest of the week off. For both our sakes, okay? You're kinda startin' to worry me." He gave Jeremy back the phone, flipped the bill of his cap down again with a small chuckle, then left. "I'll see you tomorrow. Right?"

"Y-yeah! Goodnight, Mike!" Jeremy called back, face still burning from embarrassment.

"͡N̸ęrd."

"Y- **you** started this!"

END

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr: December 25, 2014
> 
> Just letting the kids talk while Mike stands there.


End file.
